


Race Me To The Finish Line

by bavarian_angel



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bavarian_angel/pseuds/bavarian_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Why now? Why today of all days?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You know why...”</i>
</p><p>There was always more to it than winning a championship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pole Position

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short one-shot, but it turned into a tiny monster. And as I much as I love Dani/Marc, I really got stuck on this pairing. So, I hope you enjoy the ride :)

Marc groaned into his pillow. He hadn’t slept well at all last night, thoughts going round and round in his mind, and knowing that he actually needed every single minute of sleep for this special day, didn’t help the matter at all. It was in moments like this that Marc realized that he wasn’t in his early twenties anymore, not the carefree rookie rider he had been ten years ago. Of course he had been nervous at that final race of the 2013 season, but it was nothing compared to today.

Sighing to himself, Marc got up as his alarm would ring in five minutes anyway. For a moment he just sat on the edge of his bed, slightly stretching sore muscles, his eyes wandering over several scars that also hadn’t been there ten years ago. They told the stories of crashes, scares and mishaps, things that happened to his body - his soul being marked by quite different happenings over time.

But there was no sense in dwelling on it though. This was it, this was the day, he needed to focus on that. It was like already switching into race mode when Marc finally got up, going over his morning routine in the bath before making himself some breakfast. Normally his parents and Alex would be around, but he had asked them to leave him alone on this important day, knowing that he would meet them later on in the garage, Alex on the other side of it anyway.

Marc had just put away his plate into the sink, simply staring at it as if his mind had stopped and tried to reboot, when a knock on the door of his motorhome brought him back to the present. Sighing in frustration, he stomped over, ready to yell at whoever was outside, his nerves long gone out of the window. Yanking at the door, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, not even acknowledging his brother standing right in front of him, when he registered the person waiting behind Alex. He would recognize those green eyes anywhere in the world.

“... and I know what you said, but he really insisted on seeing you.”

Marc barely heard Alex’s words, his own expression of anger dying before being spoken - he would have expected anyone turning up today, even _Rossi_ , but not _him_...

“Marc?”

Again, he had no eyes and ears for his brother, only looking at the older man, his mind having lost grip on reality because the whole situation felt completely unreal.

“Can I talk to you? Please?”

Hearing his voice, made Marc shiver, realizing in defeat that the other man still had this power over him after all those years. It would have been so easy to close the door again, shutting him out, but his body betrayed him when he nodded slowly. Biting his lip, he looked over at Alex, trying to communicate without using words, hoping to find that ever present brotherly connection. His younger brother simply raised his eyebrows, making sure that Marc could see his opinion on the whole matter, before stepping aside.

“I see you in the garage.”

“Yeah...” Marc couldn’t bring himself to say anything else, eyes back on the other man, not even noticing when Alex disappeared, leaving them both standing there.

Still not trusting his eyes, Marc simply retreated back into his motorhome, knowing the other would follow. Back inside, he waited until he heard the sound of the door being closed, before turning around. Leaning against the table in his back, gripping the hard surface with both hands, Marc looked at him again.

“Why are you here?” Marc asked, his voice trembling more than his whole body, a rough edge in the words very well noticeable, making the other man blush slightly.

“To talk to you.”

“Why now? Why today of all days?”

“You know why...”

Taking a deep breath, Marc closed his eyes for a second. Years ago he would have done anything - in some weak moments even considering to give up racing - to have him stand there again. And now, with him being here, in reality, not a dream or fantasy, he simply didn’t know what to do.

“Jorge...”

 


	2. Sighting Lap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your feedback, you're the best :D
> 
> I hope you like the way this is taking! Please let me know what you think!

_Valencia 2010_

 

“Congratulations!”

For a long moment, Marc simply stood there, looking up at the older man, no reaction coming through. It all still felt too unreal, him being 125cc world champion and the new MotoGP champion extending his hand to him. Very slowly he managed to take it and thanking him with mumbled words. In a certain way, Marc didn’t know what to say - he had cheered for Rossi after all. But looking up into those green eyes, seeing honest admiration in them, he couldn’t fight the warm feeling creeping up on him.

“I have a feeling that we’ll see quite a bit of each other in the upcoming years.”

The accompanying grin wasn’t cocky at all, even though a certain part of Marc’s mind was looking for it. Instead it made him feel like he had stepped up a rank, that he was really finding his place in the MotoGP world - and that maybe Jorge Lorenzo wasn’t the bloody nemesis he had thought him to be.

 

*~*~*

_Cervera, January 2012_

 

Roser could barely hear the door bell above the loud music blaring out of Marc’s room above. They had long given up on telling him to turn it down, knowing that these days they barely had a chance to get through to him anyway. A lot of people had stopped by in the last few weeks, some more than others and especially his team seemed to make an effort by visiting as often as possible. However, she would have never believed to be met with Jorge Lorenzo’s face when she opened the front door.

“Hello... is Marc...” He paused for a moment, only now getting aware of the noise, immediately knowing where it was coming from. “Never mind. I’m here to see Marc. I’m...”

“I know who you are, but... I don’t think it’s a good time right now.”

“Is there actually a good time?”

Roser just looked at him, noticing the understanding in his eyes as well as the more or less conscious rubbing of his left hand.

“To be honest, I’m not really sure.”

“I just want to talk to him for a few minutes. I heard that he still hasn’t really recovered and I was passing by, so I figured I’d drop in for a short visit.”

Roser felt that there was more to it, but didn’t dwell on it, when she finally stepped aside to let him through. Watching Jorge ascending the second flight of stairs, she wondered what else she didn’t know about her son besides him having any kind of connection to Jorge Lorenzo.

Just like his mother had experienced trouble hearing their guest arrive, Marc had no idea of his visitor coming into his room. He was lying on his bed, music at a deafening volume, his eyes closed, not wanting to see those two separate pictures.

It was only when he felt a light touch to his hand, startling his mind back to reality, that he bolted upright, his eyes unable to focus on the figure in front of him, dizziness making him grab his bed sheets unsteadily.

“Woah there, kid...”

Jorge’s arms immediately went out to steady him, making sure he wouldn’t move around too much himself, a steady picture for Marc to focus on.

“What the fuck?”

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah... but seriously, what the... Jorge?”

The older man just nodded, keeping still otherwise, patiently waiting until Marc seemed to be able to focus on him, his look soon dropping down again though. As careful as possible, Jorge lay his left hand over Marc’s right eye - a powerful picture for those who knew.

“Better?”

“Yeah...”

They had no idea how long they stayed in that position, the still blaring music providing an uncommon soundtrack and basically making it impossible to have a conversation, but they both felt like they didn’t need any words anyway.

After what seemed like hours, but rather some minutes realistically, Marc struggled to get up from his bed. Laying his own hand above Jorge’s to make sure he would keep it in place, he dragged him along over to his desk and turned off the music. The contrast of the following silence proofed to be deafening in its own way.

“Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

“I don’t think I need to ask what you’re doing here.”

“I guess so. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you giving up over this. It’s a stupid thought, I know, because it’s a fact that this word isn’t even part of your vocabulary. Maybe I just wanted to remind you of that - make sure that one day you’ll try to kick my ass on track, in MotoGP.”

“Just trying?”

There was a hint of a smile on Marc’s face, like a real smile, like the ones he seemed to become famous for. Jorge only laughed in response, sending some warm vibrations down Marc’s body, before he placed his other hand in the younger man’s neck, pulling him in carefully and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“See you in Qatar...”

Marc could still feel Jorge’s warmth on his face hours after he had left.

 

*~*~*

_Jerez 2013_

 

Walking, or rather swaying, back to his motorhome, Marc still felt kind of post-race high. He might have missed out on the win, but here in Spain even a second place felt really just as good, especially with what happened in the last lap, in the last corner.

Deep down in his mind he knew that this move had been quite aggressive, but on the other hand this was MotoGP racing and not an afternoon tea party, even though Jorge’s wag of the finger had shown him that the older rider didn’t really agree with him on that.

Reliving the scene from parc fermé in his mind again, Marc became completely unaware of his surroundings, no chance to notice the figure stepping out of the darkness and between him and the wall of the motorhome next to him. It almost looked like a replay of their collision on track, when Marc ran into Jorge, only this time the older rider stayed completely steady - and blocking Marc’s way successfully.

“Hey...”

“You know... when I said that you would try to kick my ass on track... I didn’t mean it literally.”

Despite Jorge’s scowling face - and probably mostly due to all the champagne floating through his system - Marc couldn’t suppress the upcoming giggle. Soon he had to fight to get his breath back, almost leaning on Jorge who just couldn’t see the funny side of it.

“Oh _baby_... you don’t really want to see me kicking your ass.”

It took Marc’s foggy brain a moment to notice the grin appearing on Jorge’s face, already too late as the older rider was coming closer and closer.

“Who knows, maybe I do...”

And for the first time of the day it was Marc who was took by surprise when Jorge basically crashed into him, his lips on his own, stealing the last trace of laughter and champagne from him.

 

*~*~*

_Mugello 2013_

 

It was quite a chilly night for the turning point from May to June. However, the crisp air didn’t really help Marc to clear his head. He was supposed to be in bed right now, resting and sleeping while the pain killers were taking care of setting his body into repair mode.

Instead, he had been lying there, staring at the ceiling of his motorhome with bits and pieces of memories showing him his crash over and over again - until he had to get up or die a suffocating death in his own bed.

He had just about managed to write a quick message containing only four words - _Borgo San Lorenzo - now_ \- before grabbing his jacket and stumbling out of his motorhome. Rushing through the quiet night time paddock, Marc had simply hoped that his message would be read.

Only slowing down once he had left behind the rows of motorhomes, he finally made it up to the race track and sank to his knees while supporting his head against the track barrier, gulping down the air whilst suffocating, his heart breaking through his rib cage and about to stop any second. He had hoped to escape his fear here, but it was crashing back into him even harder than before.

Marc could have sworn he was really about to die right here and now, with nobody to safe him, only to be suddenly wrapped into a warm embrace, hands rubbing soothingly over his arms and back.

“It’s okay... sshh... deep breaths... Come on, breath with me.”

Somehow the deep voice found its way into Marc’s mind, so he slowly tried to match his own breaths to the ones of the older rider. Marc didn’t know if it had been minutes or hours, until he finally calmed down again.

“Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome... but stop fucking worrying me today.”

It was said with a slight smile, but Marc could very clearly hear the real emotion behind it. Looking up at Jorge, barely making out his face in the moonlight, he nodded slowly as now that the fear had subsided the pounding pain in his head and jaw had returned.

He watched on as Jorge carefully lay his hand on his bruised chin, the older man actually wincing himself when he felt the bruising, before he pulled Marc towards him.

It wasn’t one of their usual kisses. This wasn’t rushed and full of adrenalin, this wasn’t just the heat of the moment. Marc realized that it was way more than that and right now he couldn’t imagine any other person being there with him - he realized that this whole thing was way more than just a silly thing between two guys.

 


	3. Lights Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was already written before my trip, so the next chapter might take a while because I have to see how I cope with writing after this weekend...

_Assen 2013_

 

“You’re an idiot.”

Jorge looked up from where he was half sitting, half lying on a huge pile of pillows in his bed. Only receiving a response of blinking eyes and blushing, was enough for Marc to know that the older rider probably was finally coming down from the high of the race with another dose of painkillers kicking in. Sighing, Marc turned around and made sure that the motorhome was locked before walking over to Jorge, still eyeing him reproachfully.

“Was it really worth it? I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened if you crashed again...”

“It was worth it if those points secure me that championship.”

Marc only shook his head at this, not even trying to argue about this any further. Being a rider himself, he knew where Jorge was coming from and if he was really honest with himself, he would have probably done the same thing in this situation.

So instead he just kicked off his shoes and carefully got on the bed with Jorge. It took them a moment to find a position they were both comfortable with, Marc ending up on Jorge’s right side, holding the icepack in place for the other man, who obviously relaxed with him there. They just sat there, both enjoying the silence for a while after a very hectic and eventful day, taking in the peace of listening to the other one breathing right next to them.

“Marc?”

“Yeah?”

“I... I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too... me too.”

 

*~*~*

_Valencia 2013_

 

Walking back into his room while drying off the last bit of moisture from the shower, Marc’s eyes fell on his suit that was spread out on one of the beds. It wasn’t the first time that he had to dress up for the award show after the season, but even after all the celebrations earlier, it seemed to finally sink in. He had done it. He had won the championship in his first year.

Not being able to fight the emotions, Marc smiled through the tears that were running down his face. No matter what would happen in the future, nobody could take this away from him.

A sudden knock on the door made him wipe his face quickly, not ready for anybody else to see him like that. Tightening the towel around his waist, he walked over to the door and took a look through the peephole, being greeted by a proud smile from the other side of the door. And one swift movement later, Marc found himself wrapped in a tight embrace, not caring that he was just wearing a towel, but only taking in the warmth of the other man.

“I’m so so proud of you...”

Marc didn’t find the words to answer, just nodding into Jorge’s neck, completely overwhelmed, again fighting tears, but soon losing the battle. It took him several minutes to calm down again, Jorge’s shoulder completely wet by the end.

“I’m sorry... I don’t think you’ve come here for me sobbing all over you.”

“Maybe not exactly the thing I had in mind, but it’s okay. I understand. And a change of clothes is probably easier to explain than some hickeys.”

Marc only chuckled at this, his mind showing him a possible scene of his mother’s face when he would appear downstairs like this later on.

“And anyway, believe it or not, that wasn’t the main reason for stopping by...”

“Says you, who made my flight to Japan a very uncomfortable one.”

“All just to cheer you up, baby, and you know it. Anyway, we’ll have enough time for that in the winter break and speaking off it... I got a little present for you.”

Marc frowned at the small wrapped box which Jorge had pulled out of his pocket.

“I...”

“Before you say anything, just open it.”

With slightly shaking fingers, Marc pulled away the ribbon and the wrapping, before being met with the metal object - not the one he had almost feared it would be, but another one with a certain meaning behind it.

“Is that for...?”

“Lugano, yes. You’re welcome any time... and it gives me a chance to actually do all those things I would love to do to you tonight...”

Marc groaned as Jorge’s words, whispered into his ear, made all his blood rush to his groin.

“Fuck you. How am I supposed to get into my pants now?”

“Jejeje... Figure something out. You’re the champion after all. And the thing about fucking me... Plenty of time for that in Switzerland because I need to get changed now and I would advise you to have another shower, a cold one this time.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, babe.”

 

*~*~*

_Indianapolis 2014_

 

The message had come with no words, but a single hotel keycard and a room number, when Marc had returned after the celebrations with his team. Being eyed quite suspiciously by his father, Marc pocketed it without a comment, silently glad that Julia and Alex had their rooms on another floor and both of them probably thinking it was a present from a random girl.

So it was only after an awkward _Goodnight, good thing we have a late check-out tomorrow_ , that Marc pressed the button to the sixth instead of the fifth floor where his own room was located. Walking down the corridor, Marc peered over his shoulder several times, making sure nobody was watching him when he finally reached the room he was looking for. As quickly as possible he swiped the keycard, immediately letting the door fall shut behind him again - only to be pressed against it a moment later, Jorge’s lips sealing his own in a kiss.

“You’re late...” Jorge’s words were mumbled, kissing down Marc’s neck, taking in the tiniest hint of champagne still left from the podium.

“I just won 10 races in a row, baby. I think I’m allowed to party a bit.”

“And what about our little party?”

When Jorge looked up, he caught the exact moment when Marc’s eyes went from dark brown to complete black. His hot breath brought a shiver down Jorge’s spine when Marc pulled him in, whispering into his ear.

“You know what? Fuck the party and just wreck me...”

Before Marc could actually finish his sentence, he was scooped up in Jorge’s arms and carried over to the bed where he was more or less gracefully dumped. He was still trying to catch his breath, while watching Jorge getting rid of the t-shirt and boxers he was wearing, throwing them behind him carelessly, probably for the maid to find them the next day.

Marc just lay there, watching Jorge crawl over to him, his lips soon finding that spot on his neck again, making the younger forget about everything else. It felt like he had won 10 races in a day, on a complete high, not even realising when Jorge started stripping him, soon no barriers between them anymore, friction bitter-sweet and adding to the growing heat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Marc noticed Jorge leaning over the side of the bed, soon followed by a bottle of lube landing next to him on the bed and the older rider back on top of him, lips trailing down his torso. A loud moan escaped Marc’s throat when Jorge’s warm mouth covered his tip, his tongue circling it before swallowing him down whole.

“Oh fuck... Jorge...”

In a complete sensory overload, Marc felt Jorge’s fingers tease his hole, the lube a cold contrast to his hot skin, slowly pressing a finger against the resistance. Marc groaned at the slow speed of Jorge preparing him.

“For fuck’s sake... Fuck me already!”

The low chuckle from Jorge almost threw Marc over the edge - the low humming spreading through his whole body - only to be followed by another groan when the older rider let go of him, leaving him with nothing for a moment before lining himself up and bottoming out in one swift motion.

“Argh... fuck...”

“Yeah, good idea, fuck m...”

Marc’s words were swallowed by Jorge’s mouth, crashing into a fierce kiss, while building up a steady rhythm. The sound of both of their moans and skin on skin, with Jorge pounding on him, filled Marc’s ears. He was barely able to breath when he felt Jorge’s hand sneak between them, wrapping his fingers around his cock, desperate to bring Marc over the edge with him.

“Oh shit... so... so close... Jorge...”

Feeling Marc’s come running over his fingers and the muscles clenching around him, was enough for Jorge to tip him over, burying himself with a loud moan, his forehead pressed against Marc’s.

Catching each other’s breath, they didn’t move for several moments, before Jorge captured Marc’s mouth in a slow, tender kiss.

“Wow...”

“Yeah... I think you wrecked us both... I swear, if Dani beats us in Brno, this will be the reason for it...”

 

*~*~*

_Cervera - Lugano, December 2014_

 

Burying his head into his pillow, Marc knew exactly who was calling him right now - no need to read the name flash up for the tenth time today. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to him. It had been enough to see his mother’s face earlier today when he had screamed at her to leave him alone. He had apologized immediately, but in the same moment he had fled to his room, locking the door behind him.

It had just been too much in the last few days. Marc loved his family, more than anything, but it was just the right time for his own space. And even if it only brought a small chance of more privacy for them, it would be worth it.

Soon the ringing stopped, but only to be followed by a short sound, indicating he had a message. Marc grabbed his phone, about to throw it against the wall, arm already raised, before he sank back on his bed. He simply didn’t have the energy to do it.

He closed his eyes for a moment and the very first thing he saw was Jorge - actually, Jorge times two, before his hand had covered his bad eye...

Sighing to himself, Marc brought his phone into his sight, wiping away the lock screen and opening Jorge’s message.

_I hate to do it, but if you don’t pick up on my next try, I’ll get Hector to give me your parents’ number..._

Knowing that Jorge wasn’t joking with this one, Marc gave in, pressing the number and listening to the very short ring while staring back at the ceiling.

“Finally!”

“Hey...”

“I don’t think I need to ask how you are.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely fabulous. Always wanted to be called a traitor by people I don’t even know.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, babe...”

Marc couldn’t suppress the slight sniffle, completely aware that Jorge must have heard it.

“It’s called a defence mechanism.”

“You don’t need that with me. I hope you know that.”

“I...”

Silent tears turned into loud sobs, everything Marc had tried to keep inside breaking free now. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, clutching onto his phone as if he was drowning and it was his only life line - Jorge’s steady breaths somewhere in Switzerland, so far and yet so close, were the only thing that was filtering through to him.

“I’m sorry...”

“Be sorry for reckless riding on track, but never for this. Never. Okay?”

“I just don’t get it. Why do people care? I don’t even care for the fucking taxes. I want privacy. I want my own place. For fuck’s sake, Pol and Aleix live there and nobody gives them any shit.”

“You’re called Márquez and not Espargaró for a reason. They might be MotoGP riders, but you’re Spain’s Golden Boy. And this had to come eventually. You know that, right?”

“Knowing and accepting are two different things.”

“Yes, they are. Like knowing that I can’t be there for you right now, in person, in Cervera, is logical. Accepting the fact that I can’t just get a flight and a hired car without causing you even way more trouble, fucking rips me apart.”

“I miss you. So much. I wish we could just spend Christmas together, somewhere in the mountains, cuddled up under a blanket, looking out at the snow...”

“One day. I promise.”

“Hmm...”

They both knew the words that weren’t spoken, so much up in the air. It wasn’t an awkward silence, both just listening to the other one breathing, trying to find closure in their very own way.

“Marc?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be okay now?

“I guess. I have to...”

“You know where to find me. And there will always be a bed and a home waiting for you here in Lugano.”

“Yes, I know. And the plans for after New Year’s still stand. Maybe we could even go on a little excursion to Andorra... But I guess first of all I need to go downstairs and apologize - again - or otherwise I get thrown out before the actual moving date.”

Jorge’s laughter brought the smile back to Marc’s face, traces of tears wiped away with his sleeve when he sat up in his bed.

“Take care, babe.”

“You too. And thank you... I think you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do. I do...”

Marc noticed that Jorge said his goodbyes just as reluctantly as he did. If anybody saw them like that, they would seriously think of them as pathetic. But even though they had those kind of moments from time to time, Marc knew that there was way more to it than would meet the eye.

 


	4. Wet to Red Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is that I'm sorry *hides* 
> 
> I still hope you enjoy it though! Please let me know what you think :)

_Argentina 2015_

 

Marc knew that Jorge would probably only see it once he would be finished with the debrief with his team and all his press obligations - the video and the text message.

_Sorry for your struggles on track today, I know you will come back stronger. I’m afraid I need to cancel tonight. I need to be alone._

He turned off his phone as soon as he had pressed ‘send’. Jorge would try to get in touch with him no matter what, but Marc just couldn’t bare it at the moment.

He had finished 3 beers and the small vodka bottle from his mini bar before falling asleep that night.

 

*~*~*

_Catalunya (Andorra) 2015_

 

Pulling up the zipper on his hoodie to brace himself against the coolness of the night, Marc lay back on the sun lounger on his terrace, looking up at the clear night sky, thoughts flying trough his mind, barely registering the sounds of Jorge in his kitchen. He didn’t even look over when he noticed his lover coming outside.

Hearing the sound of two glasses of wine being placed on the small table next to them, he shuffled over a bit, soon joined by Jorge. It actually took him a moment, and a deep breath, before he wrapped his arm around the older rider, snuggling into his chest.

“I know that’s not the celebration you expected.”

“Why not? It’s a beautiful night, we have a really nice bottle of wine and I got my hands full of the love of my life. What else would I want?”

“Hmm.”

“Okay, spit it out. What’s going on in your head?”

Marc didn’t answer for a while, just staring into the distance, his fingers playing mindlessly with the hem of Jorge’s shirt.

“I fucked up - again... And before you say anything, I know you would agree because I know how brutally honest you are with me. What I don’t get, is what is wrong this season? I know you can’t compare it with last year and the bike is quite different, but why do I suddenly make mistakes I haven’t done in years?”

“I think only you can answer that.”

“But I don’t have an answer!” Groaning frustrated, Marc sat up, turning his back towards Jorge as he grabbed one of the glasses, gulping down the expensive wine in a swift motion. “It’s like I don’t know myself anymore...”

He felt Jorge’s hand running down his back, slowly stroking his spine. Marc couldn’t turn around though. The look into his lover’s eyes would simply be too much in the moment.

“You put yourself under too much pressure and I think you’re starting to crack. Nobody expects another 2014, except maybe yourself. Babe, you’re just 22 years old. Learn from your mistakes and move on.”

Slightly shaking his head, Marc got up, his back immediately feeling colder when Jorge’s hand dropped away.

“You know what? I’m not in the mood for your motivational lectures tonight. Sorry for being the party pooper after your spectacular win today, but I’m off to bed...”

Marc could feel Jorge’s look burn into his back, but he didn’t turn around. A part of him wanted the older man to stop him, another part too proud to admit that it actually was himself throwing it away.

It was only after an hour of restless tossing and turning that Marc found sleep this night - no words spoken, but buried in the arms of his lover.

 

*~*~*

_Aragon 2015_

 

Marc didn’t really sleep well last night. It wasn’t like he was nervous - because the day he would be nervous to get on the bike, would be the day of his retirement - it was more like a strange feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t place it, only knowing that it left him uneasy.

Looking out of the window of his motorhome, he saw the sun rising over the track. Usually nothing would get him up at this hour, maybe except Jorge when they shared a bed and welcomed the day in their special way.

However, he was already wide awake anyway and there was no sense on dwelling on possibilities about the upcoming race, sitting all alone here. Thoughts were still whirling around his mind as Marc was getting dressed - thoughts about yesterday’s qualifying, today’s race... thoughts about Jorge.

Sighing, Marc pulled his cap deeper into his face as he stepped out of his motorhome. They weren’t going through one of their best times, but Marc didn’t really know what was going on with them. He guessed that the season itself was getting to them. They were both a bit on the edge, himself basically throwing it away with just too many DNFs, Jorge chasing Valentino, not really close enough to catch him. But whenever they were off track, they were clinging to each other. Often Andorra, mostly Lugano, because the chance of a surprise visit from his parents often posed a threat as they still didn’t know about them.

They knew that there was somebody, but that was it. He had actually thought about telling them, but definitely not before the end of this season. He didn’t need this on this on top of his pile right now.

Wandering around between the motorhomes, Marc was glad that there were barely any people around at this hour of the day. It felt like he could still breath, still away from the pressure of the upcoming race. Lost in thoughts, he didn’t really follow a path, no real destination on his mind, his feet taking on a familiar path soon enough though.

There was no plan to pay a visit, but as always there was just one way to go and so he ended up just around the corner from Jorge’s motorhome. But before he could spot the Yamaha motorhome, he stopped in his tracks as the quietness was suddenly filled with the more than familiar voice of his boyfriend.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you again...”

The other voice - a woman’s voice - was definitely new to Marc’s ears. And he couldn’t remember Jorge mentioning anyone who might drop by for a visit.

Frowning, he slowly took a step forward, carefully peeking around the corner. And there he was, his boyfriend clad in Yamaha blue, a scarf tightly wrapped around his throat, his arms around a blonde woman. He could see how Jorge whispered something into her ear, smiling - with the smile actually reflecting in his eyes.

As if frozen to the spot, Marc stood there, watching them laugh before they disappeared into the motorhome together. He couldn’t ignore that pain in his chest, knowing that Jorge hadn’t laughed and smiled like that in weeks, not with him around anyway.

 

*~*~*

_Phillip Island 2015_

 

Marc could still feel the adrenaline pump through his veins. He had no idea how he had done it, but somehow that had been the last lap of a lifetime. He had only wanted to be on the podium, catching Jorge and actually winning this race was just a bonus. After all, there had been the agreement that their personal life didn’t intervene with what happened on track, one of them a serious championship contender or not.

Wiping the remnants of sweat and champagne from his face after finishing his last interview, Marc was about to leave for his motorhome, longing a shower and fresh clothes. About to turn around the last corner towards the exit of the press centre and completely unaware of his surroundings, he was suddenly grabbed by the arm and pulled into a dark space, apparently a storage room of some kind, a closing door soon cutting him off the outside world. His frightened scream was immediately taken away by soft lips sealing his own in a passionate kiss.

A moment later, still trying to get his breath back, he could just about make out Jorge’s shining eyes in the darkness.

“What the fuck, Jorge?”

“Rather, what the fuck, Marc? What was that? How did you manage that lap?”

“Jeje, a special one, just for you, baby.”

He could feel Jorge’s fingers stroking down his cheek, the gentle touch bringing shivers down his spine.

“That was terrific. I’m so proud of you, Marc.”

The honesty in Jorge’s voice was hard to take in for Marc. He knew that he meant every single word and he would have given anything to see his face right now. Instead, he just pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him until there was literally no space left between them. Feeling the older man in his arms, his muscles clearly noticeable under the leathers, Marc clung to Jorge like a drowning man to a lifeboat.

His fingers dug into the back of Jorge’s leathers, his breath hitting the hot skin on his boyfriends neck and they both noticed that the cheeky and passionate atmosphere had changed into something more sincere. It was like time stood still for a moment, like everything had ceased to exist except the two of them. No more words were spoken, only meaningful silence surrounding them. For endless moments, they just stood there in the darkness, both not yet willing to let go.

 

*~*~*

_Sepang 2015_

 

It was a hot and sticky night in Kuala Lumpur. The lights of the city almost made the stars disappear, or maybe it was just Marc’s clouded view after finishing half a bottle of Mr Jack Daniels. In all intention to numb himself and mostly forget about this horrible day, it had only made him more frustrated and miserable. Maybe the roof top wasn’t the best place to be in such a state, but Marc was beyond caring. The whole world had turned on him and the world could go fuck itself in his opinion.

Taking another sip, he leaned back against the wall, looking back up at the sky. His mobile was lying next to him on the ground, once again lighting up. Marc didn’t even check it anymore. He knew that it would either be Hector or Alex, or on a rare occasion tonight, his mother.

There were two people who didn’t call him tonight, silence speaking more than a thousand words.

Marc had actually seen footage of the post race press conference, had heard what Jorge had said about the incident, but after that there hadn’t been a single word. He could live with Valentino shunning him for the rest of his life, but being left alone by the one he loved, hurt more than a thousand accusations of the Italian press.

Marc had no idea what had happened between them, didn’t know where they had taken a wrong turn. He just knew that it hurt more than the crash this afternoon. And despite everything - the silence, the looks, the messaging with _Nuria_ \- he still wished that Jorge would be here with him in this moment. He could even tell him off for his riding in the race and they would probably end up in a fight, with Jorge taking away the alcohol and pouring it over the edge of the roof simply to make a point, but at the end of the night they would lie in each other’s arms and Jorge would tell him that all would be okay eventually, probably knowing himself that it was a sweet but comforting lie.

Right now Marc would give anything to be lied to - all better than cold and bitter silence.

 

*~*~*

_Andorra, early November 2015_

 

The house was a mess, but Marc didn’t care. He knew there were broken glasses in the kitchen, ripped sheets in the bedroom and soggy tissues all over the dining room - the world could be burning and he wouldn’t care. Back in Malaysia, he hadn’t thought it could get any worse, but he had been wrong.

_I know you’ll hate me and I’m sorry to do it this way, but I simply can’t get myself to face you in person. Call me a coward and you’re absolutely right. I’m so sorry, but we can’t go on like this. Thank you for the most beautiful time of my life, thank you for everything. I’m so sorry..._

Marc had known that was something was off, even way before Malaysia, but actually reading it on his mobile phone after waking up this morning had come as a complete shock - and he had always thought Jorge to be the man to do something like that in person, not simply sending a message on WhatsApp.

Marc couldn’t remember the hours that had followed. From the moment he had looked at his phone, his mind was completely blank. Judging by the state of his surroundings, it couldn’t have been good - especially not with the empty beer bottles by his feet, which were definitely not 0,0.

With his thoughts drifting away again, trying to block out Jorge’s face and voice that his memories were firing at him, Marc barely registered the noise of the front door being opened. Only the shocked gasp coming from up above, made him look up. He actually sighed in devastation when he was met with his brother’s confused and worried face. Of course, there hadn’t been the slightest chance of it being someone else.

“Jesus Christ, Marc... what happened?”

Alex let himself fall onto his knees next to Marc, careful not to trip over the bottles or landing himself in a shard of glass. The attempt of a sad laugh fell from Marc’s lips as he took another sip from the almost empty beer bottle in his hand, before shocking both of them as he suddenly hurled it through the room, the shattering sound bouncing of the walls. Looking back at Alex, Marc could see the concern in his eyes, no longer able to fight the bitter tears running down his face when he grabbed his mobile phone, shoving it in Alex’s slightly shaking hands.

“Lorenzo... Jorge Lorenzo happened...”

 

*~*~*

_Valencia 2015_

 

He looked good. Jorge looked exceptionally good in his black suit, and Marc was aware that he had no legitimation to stare at him like that. On the other hand, Jorge had no reason at all to look like a kicked puppy when they met backstage at the award ceremony. After all, there was his new girlfriend waiting outside for him.

Marc had no idea what he had done wrong to get stuck in a room with Jorge of all people. Then, if Valentino had actually decided to appear, it would have been even more awkward and that was not something Marc even wanted to imagine. Leaning against the wall, his eyes firmly on the door and waiting for a sign that he could leave, he tried his best to ignore Jorge. There was only the tiny problem that, no matter how horrible the circumstances, he simply couldn’t ignore him. And a short glance to the side confirmed that he wasn’t the only one with this dilemma.

The tension grew with every passing second and it was only a matter of time until one of them would have enough and just bolt out the door. Marc was seriously contemplating it, his body almost moving without his will, when it suddenly stopped - a short cough from the Mallorcan still held that much power over him.

“Marc?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Thinking how a few weeks ago he wouldn’t even needed to ask, Marc looked over to Jorge who’s eyes didn’t meet his, his teeth biting his lower lip and shaking hands buried deeply in the pockets of his trousers.

“Yes... of course...”

“Did you hold back during the race today?”

Marc couldn’t read Jorge’s eyes, but he was very well aware what he was trying to ask.

“Do you think I did?”

“I don’t know and that’s the thing...”

“You want to know if I was at the limit with my bike or if I, on purpose, didn’t attack you so you would win this title?”

“Yes.”

Not being able to look at Jorge anymore, Marc turned around and took a deep breath, before walking over to the door. About to step through and run, he hesitated for a moment, knowing that Jorge would try to find him later on, if he didn’t answer him now. He could feel the older man’s look burning into his back, but he didn’t have the strength to face him again right now.

“Today I had the choice between two men, who both shattered my trust in them. Both of them made me cry in the last couple of weeks, both of them lied to me. Both had been my heroes, in different ways. I raced them both and I lost... I hope that answers your question. Congratulations, Jorge, and enjoy it while it lasts...”

 


	5. Parc Fermé

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there, only one more chapter after this one. 
> 
> Thank you all so much!

_Catalunya 2016_

 

Their world wasn’t the same anymore. It might have been the same sun rising this morning, but everybody knew that something had changed. And Marc was sure that he wasn’t the only one with a lack of sleep after this weekend.

They all just wanted to leave, but whoever had made the plans to test here right after, better not raised his hand in front of the riders today. And like usual, when your world is broken into pieces, you fall back onto old habits.

This was the only way for Marc to explain, why he was standing in front of Jorge’s motorhome right now, looking up at the tinted windows, wondering if just maybe the older rider was there, seeing him right now. He would be able to read everything reflected in his eyes and Marc had this feeling that with only a single word, his broken soul might start to heal again.

But in the end, nothing happened. With a sigh Marc turned around and walked back the way he had come - after all, this wasn’t something a simple handshake could mend again.

 

*~*~*

_Catalunya 2018_

 

Marc could definitely tell that there was more running through him that just champagne and the sweet feeling of winning his home grandprix as well as extending his lead in the championship. Drowning the last bit of his drink, Marc motioned to Alex that he was about to get another one, the noise of the club making it almost impossible to say anything to each other.

Pushing through the crowd towards the bar, he clearly enjoyed the ability to blend in and not be presented on a silver plate tonight. This was about celebrating and not keeping up his posture for the press - something he had to do more often these days than he wanted to.

After a finding a gap to push through, Marc leaned against the bar, its surface vibrating with the beat of the music. With a small wave he tried to get the attention of the young bartender, who at the moment seemed a bit busy giving out drinks to a group of girls, but when he turned around a second later, Marc’s look was met by two orbs of deep blackness, the intensity of it almost making his jaw drop.

Unconsciously licking his lips, Marc watched the young man coming over to him, not missing his smile which just seemed a slightly bit different than the one he had observed earlier with the girls.

“Hey... what can I get you?”

Rather reading the words from his lips than understanding him, Marc leaned closer to him, almost crawling over the bar, which gave him much needed support at the moment.

“Vodka Red Bull...”

His request was only answered with a grin and Marc watched on as the young man quickly and professionally fixed him his drink. And he was very sure that he wasn’t the only one feeling that electric spark as the bartender handed him the glass, their fingers briefly touching. He felt completely paralysed and about to drop his drink, just looking on as the young man smiled softly, a hint of a wink as he turned around to the next customer.

*~*

The night was chilly for spring, but somehow Marc was sure that his shaking hands weren’t due to the temperature. It might have something to do with the 4, or maybe 5, vodka Red Bull because it simply couldn’t be the fact that those black eyes were still haunting him like this.

The music of the club was still blaring despite being almost dawn, only slightly muffled in the small back alley Marc had found himself in. Watching Alex disappear towards the toilets, the blonde girl constantly whispering something into his ear, had opened an opportunity for Marc to sneak outside. After the whole mess with Jorge, his younger brother had taken on the job of being his constant companion - and as much as Marc loved this during racing weekends and horrible lonely nights in Andorra, sometimes it could just be a bit too much. And he definitely didn’t need his disapproving look while Marc tried to light his cigarette - another nasty habit of the post-Jorge era.

Cursing, Marc was about to haul the lighter through the alley, unable to use it with his shaking fingers, which stilled suddenly when two hands appeared before him, so much calmer and smoothly moving in igniting his cigarette.

“Thank you...”

Marc almost chocked on the smoke when he turned around to the other person, only to be met with those eyes once again.

“You’re welcome... I’m Ramón by the way.”

“Marc...”

It was only a moment later that both of their cigarettes lay on the floor, forgotten as their lips rather caught another taste in a kiss, which was enough for Marc to know that his shaking fingers most definitely weren’t due to alcohol tonight.

 

*~*~*

_Andorra, December 2018_

 

His hands wrapped around a cup of cooled down coffee, Marc sat on the stool at his kitchen counter, eyes on the duffel bag in the doorway. He couldn’t help himself as he felt numbness creeping into his limbs while listening to the sounds of Ramón upstairs, mixing with the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. He wished he could stop this moment in time, could freeze them up, but he knew that it would be in vain. They would crack eventually. Swallowing down a tasteless sip of coffee, Marc could hear the other man coming down the stairs. At first he couldn’t look, didn’t want to face him, as Ramón appeared in the kitchen door.

“Marc?”

Shaking his head, he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do it, even though he knew that there was no way back now. Tears of frustration were almost spilling from his eyes, when he felt an all too familiar hand on his shoulder.

“Please, look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Not believing those words, Marc simply turned around, burying his face in Ramón’s chest, with the arms of the older man quickly wrapping around him.

“I’m so sorry...”

“I know.”

“I wish... I wish we could make this work. You have to believe me when I say I love you...”

“I do believe you, but you also know that it’s not enough. It will never be enough because I’m not him.”

“Ramón, please...”

“I wish you all the best in the world, Marc. I really hope that one day, you either find each other again or you let yourself heal enough for somebody else. Just promise me that you’ll take care until then.”

Feeling Ramón placing a soft kiss into his hair before taking a step back and leaving him without the warmth of their last embrace, Marc didn’t fight the tears anymore. They were falling without a single sound, while he watched through blurry eyes how Ramón took his bag and left through the front door without looking back.

The sound of the key being placed on the small table in the hallway, almost correlated with the breaking of his heart - but something couldn’t break if it never had been fixed in the first place.

 

*~*~*

_Aragon, 2020_

 

Marc didn’t like press conferences. Probably not as much as Dani used to hate them, but there were definitely better things to do on a Thursday afternoon - especially when it meant that he would be sitting behind one table with Jorge.

Today, however, it was different. Because Jorge hadn’t been there since Assen. Not since his crash in the qualifying of the Dutch GP. Not since his pelvic fracture due to the crash. And now he was standing there, leaning against the chair, and Marc knew that something was up.

Unable to take his eyes off him, yet unable to say anything, Marc soon was faced with Jorge staring back at him. They were in a room full of people and still, with one look, Jorge was the only thing that existed in Marc’s mind right now. About to take a breath, about to finally say something, Marc was stopped by Nick Harris, reminding everybody that they were about to start, and soon the moment between him and Jorge was gone.

And of course, destiny always being cruel, they were sitting next to each other as leader and third in the championship. Looking up at the crowd of journalists in front of them, Marc tried to ignore the heat coming from his left side, Jorge only sitting a few centimetres away from him. He sent up several prayers that this press conference would be over as soon as possible, so that he could go back to hiding in his motorhome.

“Welcome everybody. It’s the Movistar Grand Prix here in Spain at Motorland Aragon. In the middle, championship leader Marc Marquez, riding for Repsol Honda, winner of the last two rounds at Brno and Silverstone as well as winner here in Aragon last year. To the right of Marc, Maverick Viñales, second in the championship, rider of Movistar Yamaha, three consecutive second places in the last three rounds. To the left of Marc, a warm welcome back to Jorge Lorenzo, a winner here in Aragon in 2014, 2015, 2017 and 2018. To the right of Maverick, we have Alex Rins, riding for Suzuki, fifth in the championship standings after a great ride to the podium in Silverstone. Last but not least, there’s Jonas Folger, factory Aprilia rider, tenth in the championship in his first season as a factory rider. Ladies and Gentlemen, before we get started, Jorge wants to make an announcement...”

So used to the normal wording at the beginning of the press conference, Marc almost missed Nick’s last words, only really registering it, when Jorge cleared his throat and leaned forwards to the microphone. He watched on confused as Jorge hesitated for a moment, his look going sideways as if being pulled towards Marc, before he seemed to find his composure again, eyes back on the journalists - but Marc could see that they were empty and somehow he suddenly knew what was about to be announced.

“Well, yes... You all know what happened in Assen. After my pelvic fracture I can actually consider myself lucky to be sitting here today. I have to thank all the marshals and the medical team at the track in Assen as well as everybody at the hospital in Groningen. It’s been a hard and long recovery, but at least I can walk and stand on my two feet again. However... Despite a successful surgery and the best physical therapy I could get, I have come to the conclusion that I won’t be able to ride a bike anymore, not professionally at least. It’s... it’s hard to admit it to oneself... and especially saying it out loud... but unfortunately, as of today, I have to retire from MotoGP...”

The shock clearly on his face, the mumbling of everybody not even reaching his ears, Marc stared at Jorge, who fell back in his chair as if all the energy had been drawn from his body. And while Nick tried to get the journalists to hush again, Jorge reached over to Marc’s knee, squeezing it for a short moment - the simple gesture hidden by the table, Jorge’s stony face not giving away any emotion.

And for a moment, Marc thought he had just imagined it, but the touch still burned an hour later, long after the press conference had been over.

 

*~*~*

_Barcelona, 2021_

 

**Former MotoGP world champion Jorge Lorenzo splits with long-time fiancée Tomás**

_For years they have been THE hipster couple of the MotoGP circus, but it looks like the dream is over. After recent pictures of the model and actress with a photographer from New York, rumours have gone wild about the current state of her engagement with Lorenzo. Yesterday, the former MotoGP rider’s management confirmed the split of the couple and says that they have parted in good terms._

_Lorenzo and Tomás, who had their first outing as a couple after Lorenzo’s infamous win of the 2015 MotoGP world championship, had been engaged for a little less than a year with the official announcement shortly after Lorenzo’s retirement from MotoGP due to continuing problems after a pelvic fracture earlier during the 2020 season._

_With no particular reason given for the split, Lorenzo’s management had simply stated to respect the privacy of the former couple. In the meantime, non-confirmed rumours state that Lorenzo is about to sell his long-term home in Lugano, Switzerland, his perspective to come back to Spain full time, now that he is looking into sponsoring a project in the CEV championship with the young promising Spanish rider Elena Rodriguez (15)._

Closing the app on his tablet, Marc just stared out of the kitchen window. Not really registering what he had just read, he went over to the cupboard, pulling out the hidden whiskey and pouring himself a glass. It didn’t even matter that it was ten in the morning.

 

*~*~*

_Valencia, 2022_

 

He knew it the moment he saw his pit board. ‘ _Viñales KO - 9!!!’_ was all he needed to see. He almost missed the first corner after that - but it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. He had done it. He had just secured his 9th championship win. He had equalled with Valentino Rossi.

Years ago, when he had seen more gravel than glory, Marc had never thought he would see this day - always a dream, always a goal, but at times it looked like nothing more. Now it didn’t matter that he would finish this race third as he was carried around the last lap on a sea of red. And as soon as he had passed the chequered flag, he had to stop.

Tears were blinding him, the crowd was deafening him, his body completely numb as Alex came to a halt next to him, throwing his arms around him. No words were needed as Marc simply sobbed into his helmet, only calming down enough for his lap of honour after several minutes. This was his day, his perfect day - at least 99% perfect as this one tiny piece of him was still missing.

**@lorenzo99:** Congratulations @marcmarquez93! You deserve it. And now for the 10th...

 


	6. Champagne On The Podium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, we've reached the end. Thank you all for all the comments and kudos. You have simply no idea what it means to me. ♥♥♥

“Jorge...”

Marc’s voice was lighting up every single nerve ending in his body. He still couldn’t believe that they were standing here, in Marc’s motorhome, just the two of them, after all those years.

On the other hand, he had known that he would come here. All the time, this date, this race, had been on his mind. And now he was standing here, had come to finally talk, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to say a single word. He simply looked at Marc and saw the heartbreak in his eyes, knowing he was the one who had put it there. But there had been a reason and with the younger man being here today, he knew that he had made the right decision - at least the most logical, which didn’t mean that they hadn’t been harmed along the way.

Jorge let his eyes wander down Marc’s body. The boy had grown up, had grown up into this man and he had missed so much of it. There hadn’t been a single day on which he hadn’t wondered about his decision, hadn’t wanted to throw everything into the wind and just drive to Andorra. But in the end it hadn’t been about him, never about him, and always about Marc.

“You probably don’t remember, but I saw you... outside my motorhome. 2016. After... you know...”

“Hmm.”

“You have no idea how much I wanted you to knock on my door.”

“That was a long time ago...”

The bitterness in Marc’s voice stung deeply. Jorge hated it, knowing that he was responsible for that. Gulping, he looked up again, finding Marc’s eyes and almost gasping at the tiny hint of tears in them.

“I also know you were at the hospital. In Holland and afterwards in Zurich. I actually saw you there. Not in Holland because I was mostly out of it there, but Hector told me...”

“So what? What does it matter? And why the fuck are you here?”

“It matters because it shows me how much you still care, despite my actions, despite me breaking you, on purpose. And maybe, it was all worth it in the end. Because I’m here, standing in front of you, and I still love you more than my own life.”

The words were ringing between them, hanging like a threat, until Jorge saw a single tear running down Marc’s face. Slightly raising his arm, he was about to reach out for it, but then he remembered that he had no right to do so.

He waited and waited for another reaction, but there was nothing. With frustration, Jorge realized that he couldn’t read Marc anymore, didn’t know what he was thinking right now - if he would throw out or kiss him any moment now. Only after a few more moments had passed, he became aware that it was actually Marc who waited - waited for an explanation, for an answer to a question he had already asked.

“What do you remember from 2015? From the time between Sepang and... well...”

“Your pathetic break up via messaging?”

“Yeah...”

“Not much... other than trying to get through every single day, knowing something was up...”

“Do you remember what the press wrote? What some fans posted on the Internet?”

“Of course I fucking remember. After all, I was the one being called a traitor. But what has this got to do with...?”

“Everything. Because there were reports, fortunately only in Italy, of you being secretly gay... And there were countless pictures, well manips, on social media, showing us...”

“Seriously?! That’s why you broke up with me? Some silly rumours and crazy fans?!”

“Yeah... because I knew that with one tiny bit of truth, everything would have blown up. Our careers, especially yours, would have been over. Valentino would have slaughtered us alive.”

“I never realized that you were such a coward.”

“I didn’t do it for me. Fuck it, I didn’t care what happened to me. But there was no way for me to live with the guilt of knowing that I had been part of the destruction of your career. Because I knew that you were meant for something bigger. That you were meant to be here today and do what fucking Valentino Rossi never managed to do. Win that tenth title. Be really the greatest of all time while still being the most amazing human being I know. I knew that it would hurt, it basically tore me apart, but deep inside I knew that somehow you would be able to live with it. And if I know one thing for sure, it’s that you simply can’t live without bikes. That’s your life, the path you’ve been destined to go. And I have to say that the time we shared on this path has been the most amazing time of my life.”

Jorge knew that he had to look pathetic - barely able to hold himself up in a mixture of physical and emotional pain, whilst countless tears were running down his face. It seemed like everything he had accumulated over the years, was about to be released because there was a tiny spark of hope about to ignite an explosion - and that spark of hope came in the form of the love of his live standing in front of him, also crying without shame, actually reaching out to him with soft fingers tracing his cheeks.

“What about Nuria?”

“If there ever had been somebody else, it would have been her. And for some time I thought she would be enough, but I realized that there was always something missing. That one percent to perfection...”

Jorge couldn’t finish his sentence, unable to say what they both knew would be coming, as Marc pulled him in, silencing him in a kiss that should have happened years ago. Feeling those soft lips on his own again, was almost enough for Jorge to collapse completely, but Marc’s strong arms held him upright. They were clinging to each other as if they were afraid the other would disappear if they let go. But Jorge was sure that he would give everything in his life to never ever let Marc go again.

They pulled apart after what seemed like an eternity, looking into each others eyes as if they couldn’t believe that this was happening. Marc lay his forehead against Jorge’s, running his fingers through the older man’s hair. Very slowly, a soft smile appeared on his face and it was the most beautiful sight Jorge had ever seen.

“You know... I could still lose the title today...”

“No, you won’t. I won’t let you...”

 

*~*

 

“ _Welcome to Valencia, welcome to MotoGP. Today one man can make history and his name is Marc Marquez.”_

“ _All he needs to do is finish on the podium and he will win his tenth world championship title!”_

“ _Do you think he can make it?”_

“ _If there’s one man who can, it’s Marc Marquez.”_

 

*~*

 

Jorge could feel Julia’s look burn into the back of his head - as if the whispers around the Honda garage wouldn’t be enough already. He was also pretty sure that somehow he had made it on Santi’s killing list. Jorge was aware that they couldn’t really know, but he guessed it was enough that Marc had turned up with red rimmed eyes to ask for a pass for Jorge. Obviously, they hadn’t caught the smile he was sporting at the time.

“So... it was you all along?”

Hearing Julia’s voice right next to him, almost made Jorge jump. Looking to his right, he noticed that the older man didn’t even look at him, eyes firmly on the screens, obviously trying to act as nonchalantly as possible.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that there must have been somebody, somebody he loves with all his heart, but somebody who broke said heart along the way.”

“You know that...?”

“I know enough to understand why there never was a girl around. That last bit only became obvious this morning. Marc never told us, not officially anyway. But I guess Alex knew, but he would never betray Marc’s trust by telling us.”

“So what now?”

“Now we keep our fingers crossed that my eldest son will get on that podium today, which I think he will after I saw his eyes this morning. Because looking at him, I finally saw him alive again and I swear to God, if you ever put him into this misery again, I will personally kill you with my bear hands, slowly and painfully.”

The last words were whispered into Jorge’s ears, while Julia slightly patted his back. To any observer, they probably looked like they were simply talking about the upcoming race, but Jorge knew that Julia had meant every single word.

 

*~*

 

Racing Marc had been one thing. Watching Marc race from his living room had been another thing. Actually watching Marc race from the Honda garage, with an equally nervous and jumpy Julia by his side, was from another world. But seeing Marc leading into the last lap, literally made his heart stop.

He wasn’t even aware of the chaos around him, until Julia and Santi actually pushed him out and almost dragging him over to the pit wall. He barely managed to hold onto it as he looked down the start-finish straight and as soon as he spotted that more than familiar orange dot, tears were springing to his eyes. He didn’t even care that the whole world could see him cheering for the man who had once been called his nemesis.

 

*~*

 

There wasn’t a single word in any language that could describe how Marc was feeling right now. Winning that title last year had already blown his mind, but this was something else. It wasn’t just a tenth title. It wasn’t just that he had actually overtaken Valentino Rossi. It wasn’t just that he had broken more records in his career than any rider before him. It was the sight of Jorge, not only celebrating with his team on the pit wall, but waiting for him at parc fermé. And there wasn’t a single soul that could hold him back now. Ripping off his helmet and more or less throwing it at whoever was standing next to him, Marc jumped right into Jorge’s open arms, silencing the screamed ‘I love you’ by a passionate kiss.

No, he hadn’t just won a race and his tenth world championship title. He had won back the man who meant more to him than all of that. And there was no one out there who could ever take that away from him again.

 


End file.
